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to keep her at arm’s length, away from his innermost thoughts.
    She was making a mountain out of a grain of sand. Brad was dedicated, that’s all. Dedicated to a fault. He really enjoyed being a doctor, enjoyed making a difference in the lives of the people who came to him, looking to be helped. A sad smile twisted her lips as she stared at the flame of the candle that was closest to her on the dining room table. Too bad Brad didn’t enjoy making a difference in hers.
    She glanced over toward the telephone on the hutch. Because Brad always worried about missing a call and misplaced his cell phone like clockwork, there was a phone in every room of the house. Except for someone who’d wanted to clean her rugs, all the phones in the house had conspiratorially remained silent. There’d been no call from Brad, saying he was going to be late. It was rare that he remembered to call about being late these days. Most of the time, he forgotor took it for granted that she would instinctively know that one of his patients needed him.
    Took for granted.
    There was a lot of that going around, Stacey thought ruefully, pushing back from the table where she’d sat for the past hour, hoping for a miracle. Hoping for her husband to walk through the door, sweep her into his arms and murmur “Happy anniversary.”
    Stacey bit her lower lip. Damn it, she wasn’t going to cry, she wasn’t. After twenty-six years, why should this hurt?
    Because it did.
    She didn’t even want a gift. All she wanted from Brad was to have him remember that this day was supposed to be special. To both of them, not just her. And she wanted him to give her a card. Cards meant someone had taken the time to stop the routine of their day and think of her. She would have settled for one created with crayons and construction paper, as long as Brad had been the one creating.
    â€œYou’re selling yourself cheap again.”
    The words echoed in her head. Words her late mother had said to her more than once whenever she gave in, or met Brad ninety-five percent of the way.
    But her mother didn’t know what it was like to love a man with all your heart, love him so much that it ached inside. Her mother and father had had a pleasant-enough marriage, one unmarred by demonstrations of anger. One also unmarred by demonstrations of affection. There were no highs, no lows in her parents’ union, just a marriage that flatlined the duration of its life.
    She couldn’t complain about that. Her mouth curved asshe remembered what it was like when she and Brad had first fallen in love. When they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. She’d had highs. Oh, God, she’d had highs. And it was the memory of those highs that had sustained her all these years. Sustained her through the unbearable loneliness that had leaked in now and then.
    With a sigh, Stacey rose in her seat and leaned over the table. She blew out first one candle, then the other. And just as she did on her birthday, amid much teasing from Brad and the kids, she made a wish. She made the same wish twice, once for each candle.
    But the door didn’t open.
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    Brad eased the door open softly. Then, just as softly, he pushed it back into the doorjamb, taking care not to make noise in case Stacey had gone to bed. He didn’t want to take a chance on the door slipping out of his hand and slamming, waking her up.
    His wife had been looking a little tired lately. He worried about her, although he hadn’t had the occasion to say anything to her. Which was just as well, he supposed. Stacey saw herself as some kind of superwoman. Superwomen didn’t like to be reminded that kryptonite existed in the world they inhabited. Stacey took pride in being able to juggle all the balls without dropping a single one.
    He didn’t know how she did it. Nothing short of pure magic, he mused.
    As he crossed to the staircase, he caught a movement out of the